


CLEANLY SNAPPED

by Lorein_nur



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Blink And You Miss It Slash, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt Demetri, I spelt his name as Dimitri, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Eli, it felt right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorein_nur/pseuds/Lorein_nur
Summary: The sound of a bone being cleanly snapped in half echoed loudly within the enclosed space, bouncing from one padded surface to another, dragging with it a suffocating silence, one boiling beneath the surface, ready to rip the lid off at the slightest notice. Even after the initial aftershock had rendered those around him into a fleeting quietude, the snap kept ringing in his ears, the others anguished cries, for what else could they be called? filtered through, resonating and suffocating, intermingling with the dryness of the damaged appendage. Making him question all his past actions, forcing him to desperately wonder in agape horror at what he had done.What had he done?--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------We've all been haunted by that one scene that season 3 dropped, so here's my take on Eli's thought process after the snap, and a possible choice he could have made a little sooner.
Relationships: Demetri & Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz, Demetri/Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	CLEANLY SNAPPED

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guy's! Happy to be back writing after a couple of months, gotta admit this is my first fic for this fandom, but I'm extremely excited and pleased with the end result, I really couldn't wait to share. Hope you like it!

The sound of a bone being cleanly snapped in half echoed loudly within the enclosed space, bouncing from one padded surface to another, dragging with it a suffocating silence, one boiling beneath the surface, ready to rip the lid off at the slightest notice. Even after the initial aftershock had rendered those around him into a fleeting quietude, the snap kept ringing in his ears, the others anguished cries, for what else could they be called? filtered through, resonating and suffocating, intermingling with the dryness of the damaged appendage. Making him question all his past actions, forcing him to desperately wonder in agape horror at what he had done. 

_What had he done?_

He’d hurt Dimitri.

Sweet, naive, incredibly brilliant Dimitri. His best friend, for many years, _his only friend._ He’d gone and hurt him, and not exactly in a way he knew would hurt the most specifically, with the thought in mind to leave it at that. No, he’d done so repeatedly, indiscriminately for the past school year, and for what? What had he gained from having the lankier of the two roll to his side and curl as best he could over the impaired arm? The jeers and respect from his former tormentors? 

Fuck, what had he done? 

Dimitri kept writhing on the stained floor, cursing and sobbing through harshly drawn breaths while he did no more than stare, knelt over the others convulsing body with growing realization in the pit of his stomach. It was a wake-up call and a belated one at that. Hands with knuckles as scabbed and dried and bloody as his own clawed at his arms, perfunctorily forcing him to stand. Pats on the back that verged more on meanly placed slaps were followed by a smothering embrace of twisted visages constructed by grins with tightly pulled lips and neon-bright teeth taking the center stage. They were monsters, he was surrounded by monsters, and he’d willingly immersed himself into that lifestyle. 

_What had he become?_

Was he too, a monster? A quick yet subtle glance at the boy still folded like a deck of cards on the carpet floor of the shitty arcade answered that. 

“ _Pussy_ ” Tory spat, the word sounding infinitely viler coming from her mouth. Others followed her example, spitting out equally derogatory insults at Dimitris pliant form. It made bile rise at the back of his throat and a smoldering heat he’d become accustomed to wielding as shield and sword to simmer and burn deep within his bones. He felt the blinding rage that had been festering inside of him after years of abuse and ridicule surge once again, but this time, this time it was different, this time that boiling resentment bubbled and simmered with justly intent to be used in defense of the only one who ever deserved his unconditional support and protection. So, just as he’d done to his life long friend, he snapped once again. However, he did so in the opposite direction. 

With a well-placed kick, he cracked the nearest kids kneecap, the boy fell down like a sack, screaming wildly into the near-empty space. Chaos erupted, questions flew from startled lips, heads turned and eyes scanned the scene before them, scattered thoughts clashed and collided with one another, desperate to piece together a string of reason. It was Tory who ended up landing on the right conclusion. 

“Have you lost your mind?!” The girl screeched, staring at him with mascara heavy eyes, teeth bared in a sneer. 

“Yeah,” Hawk- _Eli_ agreed, “I did for a while there, but not anymore.” 

_“Traitor!”_ Tory shrieked, her cries reminiscent of those of a harpy. She lunged headfirst at the taller of the two, fist raised high and ready to strike. No mercy, that’s what they’d been taught, so Eli showed none. He dodged, with ease, as he’d been trained to do for the past couple of months before pivoting on the spot and landing a hard kick of his own to the back of her knee, it was quick, and it was sharp and it had enough force to make her stumble into a bow on the spot. 

Another boy tried his luck, running what little distance there was from one body to another, and pounced onto Eli’s back. Meat-heavy arms did their best to encircle a slender neck, but the hold was sloppy and unpracticed, and with a simple twist the hair dyed boy had broken the others hold and had his arm twisted and tightly held back at an awkward angle. Tension grew, not only among the frightened teens but within the arm Eli gripped, the more he wrenched the louder were the screams, from the boy, from his _friends,_ they had been reduced to a mass of unintelligible begs. 

Tory stood with a huff, loose strands sloppily framing her face, the dried and dyed ends scraping at her reddened cheeks. She was visibly pissed with bottled anger of her own, the equivalent of a bottle of pop roughly handled, shaken, and thrust from one careless pair of hands to another, just yearning to be untapped, a cocktail mixture of carbonic acid and gaseous CO2 ready to fizzle out and drench those around it in sweetening sugary drama. Yet one look at the tattooed boy had her pausing, reassessing, and recalculating. Cold blue eyes stared frigidly back at her and at the shaken faces of those he as of that moment had considered his teammates, perhaps even his friends. 

The arm in his grasp was given another cruel curl, eliciting a fresh cry from the boy and a shudder from Tory. They started back, as individuals, and as a group. Frightened and unsure, their previous mirth having effectively been eradicated at Eli’s abrupt betrayal and harsh actions. He’d become unrecognizable, a fallen soldier seeking revenge or atonement, the motive behind his behavior remained uncertain. More pressure was slowly added, a little more and the bone would be ready to snap. 

No mercy, sensei Kreese had said. 

Strike first, strike hard.

Was that not what he was doing? Enforcing his dominance, upholding his dojo’s teachings. So then, why was it, that when the same treatment was given to those who formed part of it only dread was reflected upon their faces. They were looking at him as if _he_ were the monster. As if they and they alone were exempt from the sins of their past actions, as if they were not just as tainted by them as he was. A little more pressure was added, by this point freckles was knelt over in pain, with a clear trail of tear tracks running down his puffed-out face. Those who remained in a huddled looked away, unable to bear witness to the sight of their fallen comrade, nor uphold eye contact with Eli’s cold and frigid stare. 

Tory, just as the others did not dare take another step in Eli’s direction, loath as she was to admit, she was just as frightened by his apparent instability. A foreign groan, the shift of a body, a silent curse, his whimpered name. All those noises sounded behind him, and all those noises were what in the end grounded him. 

“Eli,” Dimitri called out in a pained voice, “please, stop.” 

So he did. He let go of the sobbing redhead, emphatically ignoring how he dropped to his knees in obvious relief, and he walked what little distance there was back to Dimitri. Sweet, naive, incredibly brilliant Dimitri, who during Eli’s very much one-sided fight had maneuvered himself into a sitting position on the patterned ground, with his broken arm still cradled to his chest, his legs slightly bent, and a tiny frown marring his brow, one that spoke of uncertainty as to what his role had shifted to during the encounter. From his perch on the ground, he was forced to look up at him, and all Eli could reflect upon was just how small and fragile he appeared. 

“You should leave,” Eli said over his shoulder, now barely paying the remaining Cobras a second glance. Too focused on the sight before him, and all the wrongs he would have to mend. 

“This isn’t over” Tory couldn’t help but growl, too used to speaking before thinking, a reflexive action that relied on false bravado. Eli huffed a condescending laugh and didn’t bother to spare the stung girl nor the cobras a glance. 

“Yes, it is.” The words rang clear in the charged air, ending any further conflict with a finality that left those present in silent despair. The rest of the cobras could only look on as their once imposing leader not only figuratively but literally turned his back to them, shunning them and exiling them without the slightest of cares. 

They left, slithering away with freshly wounded pride, eager to retreat, to regroup. Creeping through the stilted silence, slowly coming to terms with their loss, for what else could they do? Dragging their feet, those who were in far too much pain to properly walk, stumbling and bumbling, relying solely on themselves and what little adrenaline remained stubbornly pumping through their veins, for the weak would never be allowed back. 

Dimitri watched the progression with wide wet eyes, cheeks still damp from tears he had earlier cried, perplexed at how he’d become an unwilling spectator of Eli’s overdue epiphany. All the while subtly aware of Eli and of his unwavering stare. It was boring into him with a surreal intensity, making him flustered and be absently thankful for the poor lighting of their current spot, which aided in hiding the red blossoming on his countenance. 

“I’m sorry” Eli whispered, out into the stifled air, crouching down before him with a care and caution Dimitri had neither seen nor experienced from him in far too long a time.

“Forgive me” Eli begged, voice cracking at the end. Bruised fists clenching onto the rustled fabric of his sweatpant-covered knees, worrying the garb with calloused fingertips. 

“I’ll do better” Eli pledged, his baby blues earnestly seeking and piercing into Dimitri’s doe-like eyes, they stared, unblinkingly at one another. Extending the moment far longer than a heartbeat, until it verged on awkward. Dimitri swallowed nonexistent saliva down an equally dry throat, weighing the other’s truthfulness, gauging their words. 

“Do you promise?” He asked, the words leaving him just as quietly as Eli’s had, but far more vulnerable.

“Yes,” Eli said, through a shuttered intake of breath “yes, I do.” The last part he sobbed, muscled frame quaking, head bowing and eyes closing tightly shut, reveling in the knowledge that there was a flicker of hope that had yet to be snuffed out. He can fix this, he thinks, as the neon lights dance and paint their skin, from blues to reds and ugly shades of violets. He can fix this, he ascertains, and he will. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fic, please feel free to kudo or comment, I love reading your thoughts and opinions, they give me life. :)


End file.
